Stereotypical Vampire Fanfiction
by Jin
Summary: [On hold (nyur), author has the Best Intentions of picking it back up] Ken's a vampire. Daisuke's figuring it All out. Jun's laughing.
1.

Oh look, it's an unoriginal vampire fic. The fanfiction world _really_ needs another one of these. >_>;; Oh well, shut up and read. Or not. =3 Free world and all. Thanks to Meimi and Kay for the lovely encouragment--you're the main reason the second part is almost done! *glomps*

I began this with the intention of it ending as a kind of lime-ish PWP, but I thought myself out of it. Erm.  
  
  
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I grunt and shift the clunky grocery bags in my arms. The word "paper" came out of my mouth before I could remember that there was three blocks between the store and home. And stairs, too--four flights of them--if the elevator isn't fixed yet. It hadn't been working this morning, and it hadn't been working yesterday, or the day before yesterday, so there was a fat chance that it'd be working now.

My parents wonder why I want to quit school. Most kids think about it when they're in high school because they want to start making money early, or they think that they don't have enough brains to even try graduating. I guess both of those could apply to me. I could always use the money--I mean, we're not poor, but dad doesn't make much with the odd jobs the company gives him, and all the salary mom makes at the register goes into the two shitty paper bags that I'm heaving around right now. Jun gets a part-time job every once in a while, but she usually saves the money for her own magazines and make-up and crap.

So the money wouldn't be bad, even though nobody would hire an 11-year old that hasn't even finished elementary school. And it's not like I'm smart. Maybe I am, or I could have been, but I think I've missed so many homework assignments in the past few years it'll take me all of middle school to catch up to the fifth grade. I guess I could be exaggerating. That's what Jun or mom or dad tells me when I say stuff like that. It just seems kind of pointless, especially when the fate of the world rests on my shoulders (on top of school and family and social life and all that).

Didn't _that_ sound like some cheesy video game? But it's true--almost every minute that I'm not at school or eating dinner at home (and I don't get to do that much anymore either), I'm in the Digital World, cleaning up the Digimon Kaizer's latest mess, or on the really _lucky days_ (note the sarcasm here) I get to fight him face to face.

You'd think that with a rival like Ichijouji Ken, the Digimon Kaiser, I'd feel even stupider than I already am. Not only did he trip me up over who the hell he was--and he tripped me up bad; as stupid as it seems now, I hadn't even seen it coming--he degrades me every chance he gets, tossing words and phrases over my head that I probably couldn't repeat a minute after hearing them. But I don't. I don't feel stupid at all, sometimes. Because even though he insults me with words that I couldn't begin to figure out, he insults me like I'm an equal, which is strange as all hell. Motomiya Daisuke, future drop-out, equal to Ichijouji Ken, boy genius and aspiring ruler of two worlds.

Sounds kind of funny, doesn't it?

But when he gets angry I'm the one he looks at while ranting his creepy head off, and when he has a new super-evil plan he's itching to carry out, I'm usually the one that gets the brunt of it (I'm avoiding going over the times that he's kidnapped me, if you hadn't noticed. If you know anything at all about those horror stories you know more than enough). All in all, it's enough to make me wonder how many times he was dropped on his head as a baby.

It's kind of amazing when I realize that I haven't died (or at least become a cripple or an outpatient) yet. It makes me tired at the same time--dealing with all the fighting and strategy right after school and even better, having to think about it while I'm walking home, eating dinner, and sleeping. I'm still alive, but there's so much stuff to do sometimes I think I'll die of exhaustion just by thinking about it all.

I'm usually like this (all moody and disconnected and PMSing) when I leave school, finished with soccer practice or the digital world or both. It's nothing different tonight. Heavy as a rock and feeling just as smart, I hear the noise when I stop to hike the bag in my left arm a little higher.

At first I think it's an animal or something--stray cats and dogs usually come out later in the day, when there are less people around, and rummage around the garbage bins in the alleys. But I stop and listen for it again anyway, being Stupidly-Curious Motomiys, and the second time I hear it I know that it has to be a human, because it's crying. He or she sounds really pitiful, something that isn't really helping my mood any.

Let it never be said that Motomiya Daisuke leaves well enough alone, no matter how pissy he is.

I open my mouth to say something before I notice that the alley I'm looking into is really dark, and that's about the same time that all of those horror stories parents and teachers tell you when you're really young and stupid shoot through my head. But I can't just _leave_, because whoever's in there sounds really scared and helpless, and young too, if I'm guessing right.

So I put one of the bags down and take a step forward. For some stupid reason I hold on to the other. Maybe it'll double as a shield, I don't know.

"Hey," I call, and the crying stops. I'd been pretty quiet up until now, so I guess I must have scared him. I think it's a him. "Are you alright?" I hear something like a whimper. "What?" I ask. I can't find where the person is; it's too dark. Why doesn't that scare me as much as I think it should?

I move forward a little more, and I hear him this time. "Hungry," and he starts to cry again.

"You're hungry...?" That's not so bad; something can be done about that. The two bags are our groceries for this week, but I'm sure mom won't get too pissed if it's for something like this... "I've got some food." I don't hear anything for a minute, and I wonder if he's still there. "Do--do you want some?" Damn, I'm getting nervous. Maybe I'll back out a little bit, closer to the street light...

"You'll... help me...?" He sounds really pathetic, the poor guy.

"Yeah, of course I will!" I try to sound sure of myself.

"I'm so hungry..." The voice sounds closer. I try to stay where I am.

"Then I'll feed you. I've... um, got food…" I think I've convinced myself. I'm carrying the bag with the milk and orange juice and everything in it, but if I need to I'll just go and grab the other one real fast. Giving some food to a kid like this couldn't be bad...

Then he's right behind me--I still can't see him but I feel him, and he's cold--and that's when I feel something prick into my neck, like a needle. It's strange, but suddenly I feel really, really warm all over, like I'm wrapped up in a blanket with a bowl of hot soup on a cold day. I don't think I'm holding the grocery bag anymore, but I feel so good I don't even care. Some part of me is yelling, telling me to get the hell away because this can't be the best of things to happen in a dark alleyway, luckily, that part is really hard to hear over the soft voice in my head.

_You're safe. You're warm. You're safe, here with me._

I feel him take a step back and I open my eyes (I don't remember closing them). Slowly, I turn and stare into two glowing blue eyes that are inches away from mine. We're standing closer to the streetlamp, so I can pick out the faint lines of his face and his long, sleek hair. I'm breathing quickly, each little burst making his hair sway slightly.

I didn't... he didn't... bite me? I try to move hand to my neck but I feel so heavy and comfortable, the idea doesn't even stick in my head for a second. So I stand there and stare at him, feeling very light and hippie-ish, trying to figure out why exactly the person in front of me looks a little familiar. He doesn't move.

It's maybe a minute or so when the warmth slowly starts to leave me and the buzz in my head dies down a little. Almost like he can tell, he takes a step back and brings his hand up to his mouth, where I can see something dark and wet shining on his lips. He looks kind of wild-eyed, like he's about to run off at any moment, so I do the only thing I can think to with my head still a little fuzzy and warm and further away than usual.

I sock him on the head, hard.

He falls immediately, and it's when I hear the meaty thud announcing his contact with the concrete that I snap out of whatever the hell I was in. I feel my neck, but there's nothing there to feel. There's a little bit of wetness that I assume is blood, but under that there's nothing.

It's only after I roll his body over that I realize that this unconcious boy sprawled under the streetlight is Ichijouji Ken.

  
  
  
  
Part 2 soon to come... Review and such fun things, yeees? 


	2. Dog Toys

Thanks to Rachel Lynn for pre-reading this so nicely. My head is still swollen. ^_^ Also, allow me to slap myself for not thanking Triforce Rocket in the first chapter--I had promised to do so. So, double thanks to you, for being so sweet in your e-mails! When I get internet access at home again, I'll try to mail you. ^^ 

This story is dedicated to Sylina. If you're reading this, Sylina: you're the bravest person I know. I'm praying for you the only why I can--I send you my love and good will. 

  
  
  


When I was five, my big sister sat on me after I snapped the antenna of her dinky radio. Jun's never been fat (only a little chubby, but she'll beat the hell out of you if you just mention _that_ year), but I've never been big, so it was one of the most traumatizing experiences when I was little kid. After a few minutes of her using me as a butt-pillow, I started to get dizzy from lack of air--being me, I was sure that my lungs would explode with an impressive display of gruesome special-effects, and I guess it didn't help that I was screaming like a banshee. I guilted her into buying me ice cream afterwards (after all, it's pretty rare that I almost work myself into a real panic attack), but I still remembered how the pressure felt on my chest and arms and legs, and I haven't forgotten the feeling since. 

When I wake up, I can't move for two reasons: There's a weight all over my body--it feels like I'm a living anchor and I'm sinking into the strange lumpy substance I'm lying on--and I think that stupid nightmare has just sent me into some sort of seizure. 

I try to move under what feels like a hundred Juns. I can barely open my eyes, and when I finally lift my lids all I can see is a blur of gray and black. I might be yelling, but I can't tell. I'm too busy having a panic attack. 

I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe... 

There's a groan. Is that me? 

I'm struggling, throwing big sisters off one by one. I've closed my eyes again since I couldn't see anything worthwhile anyway. 

"Hey," I barely hear over the groaning. 

That's not me, I'm sure of that. The voice is higher than mine and clearer. 

"_Hey!_" 

The groaning is getting really god damn annoying. There's not much you want to hear when you're doing your best to concentrate on getting air in your lungs, but this is really starting to piss me off. I want to tell everything to shut up, but the groaning keeps getting louder and this other person is trying to say something. 

"HEY!" 

Something hits my cheek and I hear a loud slap. The groaning finally stops. Oh. It _was_ me. Little bit of a head-trip right there. 

Oooh. I can _breathe_ again, even though it feels like some jerk decided to use my head for a bass drum. 

As my breathing slows and the pounding on the sides of my forehead finally dies away, my vision starts to clear--the first thing I notice is that I'm propped up on my hands facing the ceiling, looking very much like a crab with my arms bent all funky--and then I notice that while I'm definitely my room (the stench was a dead give-away anyhow), there's something wrong. More than one something, actually. 

One--I'm lower than usual. A quick glance to my left confirms that Wow, I am not in my bed. A quick glance downwards and I can see my uncle's tattered old futon bed. I'm tempted to ponder just _how_ a large enough space has been cleared on my floor, but that second something is sort of demanding my attention. 

"What in hell is wrong with you?" Ichijouji asks, leaning over me. 

I yelp and fall back on the mutant matress. 

"Daishuke!" Chibimon leaps from God-knows-where and onto Ichijouji's head, while the Kaiser goes on to say some pretty impressive words. "Don't worry, I've got him covered!" squeaks the fluffball. 

I blink. Ichijouji scowls and looks very close to rolling his eyes. Chibimon growls at the Digimon Kaiser and squirms around, messing up the his sleek hair. If I weren't feeling like crap the situation might have been funny. 

"Could you please refrain from jumping on my head? It hurts," Ichijouji says lowly, but makes no effort to brush off the blue fuzzball. Chibimon sniffs and stays exactly where he is. 

"My everything hurts." I mumble. The words scratch my throat like swallowing a porcupine, and I try to hold back a fit of coughing. 

Ichijouji doesn't say anything for a minute, he just stares at me. I don't feel like I'm in any condition to withstand one of his patented Sour Milk Looks, so I decide to close my eyes and fake tired (which really isn't hard to do, considering). Seconds later a sigh and a "squeak!" sounds and Chibimon is smacked off the Kaiser's head to land by my shoulder. As Ichijouji climbs back into my bed, the blue 'mon stands, shakes himself, sends a glare (and a little shake of the fist) upwards, and settles in the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

"How does it feel?" Ichijouji asks quietly. He sounds like a robot--I can't even begin to guess what he's thinking or feeling. 

"Huh?" I haven't done much thought yet, but it somehow crosses my mind that it isn't quite normal for the Digimon Kaiser to be asking me something so politely. 

"How does the hurt feel?" 

"Um," I say intelligently. "Like an elephant took a shit on me?" 

There's a pause, then an exasperated sigh. "A little less crudity, a little more detail." 

Chibimon snuggles into my ribcage. "Can I ask something first?" I manage to avoid wheezing. 

"No." 

I'm a little caught off guard. "Um," I say. 

"Is that all you can say?" he sighs again. 

The stupidness of the situation smacks me. Screw him, Digimon Kaiser or not, _I_ get the first question. 

"Actually, no," I growl, "I can say 'screw you' nice enough. That's a start, huh? How about 'shut the hell up, this is my room'? Getting any better? After all, _you_ were the one that attacked _me_, I say you owe me something for trying to rape me in a dark alleyway." I make it halfway to sitting up before I fall back again. "Ow. Damndamndamndamndamn." 

Well, at least there's a short pause before he starts up again. Suppose it counts for something. "You seem poorly limited to juvenile phrases." 

"Who asked you anyway, Ichijouji?" I'm conveniently forgetting to be intimidated. Hey, he's up on the bed where I can't see him pull any of his scary faces, why not take advantage of the temporary shield of pillow? 

But the pillow does nothing to keep him quiet. "Well--" 

"Oh shut _up._, Kaiser!" Ow. That hurt too. Make a note. Another little something to tell the doctor--I open my eyes and see that he's rolled over to scowl at me--or the mortician. I try not to flinch, and eventually he rolls his eyes and disappears again. 

So much for not being intimidated. 

A few minutes of silence pass before I start shifting around--hey, I've never been the still type. I've never been the _stable_ type either, but that's different issue... right. There aren't many comfortable ways to lay down when you're sore all over, especially on a lumpy old futon that used to belong to my uncle. I am creating fun new combinations of curse words and grunts with an ease that Yamato-san would envy, so I guess that could be considered a plus. Ichijouji doesn't say anything for a while. 

"You okay?" Chibimon asks me after I settle down again. 

"Will be, I think. I've had worse during soccer games. Never in so many places at once, though." I want to laugh or chuckle or something, but I get the idea that it'll hurt. 

"I'm sorry," Chibimon sniffles into my hair. 

"What for?" I can't think of anything the furball would need to apologize for. 

"I'm supposed to protect you, Daichuke. I'm sorry." He sniffles again and I hug him the best I can."Aw, you don't need to be sorry about anything, Chibimon. Everyone makes stupid mistakes, and you know I'm no exception. I'll just have to add walking into creepy dark alleys and nearly getting raped by a creepy boy to the list." 

He grunts. "For the record, I was not trying to rape you. If I were trying to 'rape' anybody, I'd trust myself to have better taste." Ichijouij's blue eyes glare at me from over my pillow. 

"Ha," I say, because I can't think of anything better. It's not really an insult you hear every day, you know? 

He sighs, and takes in another deep breath for what I'm guessing is going to be the Unfathomable Insult of the Century... 

...but then Jun busts in the room armed with a tray of something steaming, and Ichijouji's face disappears from behind the pillow. _Ha._

She glances at the bed and then looks down at me. "Oh, you're up. Good. I don't think you want to experience the whole funnel experience Mom exposed me to when I had the flu." That's good; somehow I don't think I want to experience that either. Drowning in force-fed soup doesn't really sound like my cup of tea. 

"Is that soup?" I ask while she's busy kicking her way over to me. 

"Yep." Her foot hits something that squeaks. Curiously, she nudges the same area and uncovers a dog toy. Yes, I _know_ we don't have a dog. Maybe I bought it when I was little and feeling hopeful. Or something. 

"Did you make it?" 

"No, Campbell did." 

I'm not complaining, but I smartly decide to avoid saying that in front of Jun. 

Jun glances at my bed as she sets the tray on a few tattered science fiction novels. "It's too bad... he looks like he could use some food. I guess geniuses like him don't bother with eating, right?" 

"Huh?" 

Jun flicks me on the forehead. "Ichijouji Ken. The kid sleeping in your bed. The one that dragged you home after you konked out on the way home and bonked his head into a wall." She leans back. "Really, Daisuke, next time you're not feeling so hot _I'll_ get the stupid groceries. No need to take anyone down with you." 

"Uh..." He carried me home? 

"Shut up and eat." She stands up, muttering, "Damn lucky, that's what you are." The door closes behind her. Seconds later I can hear Chibimon snoring. 

He took me home after I socked him one. Why... I really can't think of any reason why he'd do that. 

Bonked... his head? 

"Hey." He doesn't respond. "Come off it, Ichijouji, I know you're awake." 

"What?" he drawls. 

"What did you do to me? Why were you in the alley? Who do you think you are, lying to my family like that?" 

Silence. 

"Hey, earth to genius boy! I asked you a question!" 

Finally, he speaks. "Several, in fact." 

I'm getting less intimidated and a lot more pissed off. "_And_?" 

"You can't expect me to answer them all at once." 

"Then answer one at a time." I grind my teeth together. 

"In what order, taskmaster?" he asks snidely. 

"Will you STOP avoidng the subject?!" Sitting up isn't a good idea, but I do it anyway, and I hardly notice that it hurts. 

"I didn't realize that there was a subject." 

"What the hell _happened_?!" I'm almost yelling--not good, considering that Jun is two cheap walls away. 

I can guess what his face looks from behing the pillow--bored, arrogant, asshole-ish... "You were an idiot, as usual." 

I'm standing up before I know what I'm doing, the comforter falling to my bare feet. It hurts (the whole standing up and moving thing, that is), but I still manage to stumble over to my bed on stiff legs and literally fall on Ichijouji in an attempt to strangle him. 

He looks suprised (giving me at least _some_ satisfaction), his eyes wide for just a second before he narrows them in a snarl. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He jerks, trying to get me off of him. Hah, no chance of _that_. 

"_You're_ the idiot." I retort, pinning his shoulders down as I drop myself into a more secure position on his stomach. Okay, so I won't strangle him. I _will_ try to get some answers out of him, and there's nothing better I can think of than the old sitting-Motomiya tactic. 

"My," he sneers, "I didn't realize your interests ran this way, Motomiya-_kun_." 

Huh...? Oh... _oh. Eww._ I'm not going to think about what he just said. Not thinking about it... damn it. Stupid freaking imagination. Ewewewew_ew_... 

His sneer grows a little wider and he raises his eyebrows just a bit. Damn it. 

Hopefully Ichijouji can't hear my nervous swallow. "I'm not that stupid," I say, "Stop trying to get out of this." 

His sneer fades, just a little, and he glares at me. 

"What did you do to me?" I ask again. 

For a minute he has a strange expression on his face, like he was a kid that just got told off by a teacher. Kind of--what's the word?--vulnerable. "I _bit_ you, dumbass. I thought that much was obvious." Then again, maybe I was imagining things. 

So he did bite me. I can remember the feeling of something pricking my neck, and then there was the warm feeling... "Why?" I ask, because I can't seem to think of anything else to ask. 

"There are numerous answers to that question," he sniffs, looking over my shoulder. 

"Fine. Give me one." 

He shrugs. "You were there." 

Annoyance level rising... "Give me another." I lower my face closer to his and do my best to look menacing. 

Pause. 

"...I..." he glares at me. "...fuck you." 

I'm a little caught off guard. "What?" I heard him well enough, but... er, yeah. I wasn't expecting a polite admission, but this is a little too much. 

"Fuck _you_," he growls and starts to move around like he's trying to get loose, "_fuck_ you!" 

"Hey!" I hiss, "Shut up--Neechan'll hear you!" 

He tenses, and it feels like he's a rubberband stretched to its snapping point. "_FUCK YOU!_" 

As if it weren't predictable enough, Jun chooses to walk in this very moment. "What's all the--" she stops and stares. "Um." Her mouth does a strange kind of twist, like she'd just swallowed something sour and ticklish, as she looks at us. "You're both awake. Feeling better, I guess." She blinks and bites her lip. "T-that's good." She's about half a second away from laughing her ass off, I can tell. I'd try to stand up and wipe that stupid grin off her face, but Ichijouji's hands had gotten ahold of my wrists while he was going psycho, and he's not holding them very lightly. I look down. Oh, and my feet are tangled in the sheets by Ichijouji's knees. 

Aw _hell_, this looks really wrong. 

"Call me when you're, erm, done." Giggling, Jun shuts the door behind her. 

My mouth is already open when I finally say something. "JUN!" I finally screech. "That was SO not what it LOOKED LIKE!" 

I can hear Jun practically scream in laughter down the hall. 

"JUN!" I scream. It's useless. "What the hell are you laughing at?!" 

"I'm not laughing," says Ken, but I can feel him shaking and he's got this really familiar look on his face--the "I'm Gonna Bust Out My Evil Cackling In About Five Seconds" look. Trust me, I've seen it before. But he isn't laughing. Not yet, at least. 

"You're not," I finally agree, because there's not much else I can do. 

He looks away, but I can still feel him shaking, like he'd just downed a whole gallon of extra-sugar jelly beans. 

"You think it's _that_ funny?" 

He looks at me. The weird look is still there, but somehow it's different than before. 

"No. I think _you're_ funny."

  
  
  



End file.
